Warding off Brad’s advances seemed so long ago, and so pointless. Mitch was the only man she wanted. Jaye placed her hand on top of his. “I like holding your hand.”
“Don’t let go, pixie.”
And she didn’t, not until she left for Syracuse the next morning.
Chapter Twenty
“Jumbo shrimp.” The man in the buffet line put a number of large shrimp on his plate and turned to smile. “An oxymoron I can sink my teeth into.”
Jaye returned the smile, glad for a friendly gesture after spending the morning stuffed inside a conference room with hostile software programmers. “I’ve always been partial to hot chili.”
“Oh, good one.” He placed the serving tongs beside the shrimp and opened his hand. “How about a vegetarian hamburger?”
“Only if I can have some white chocolate for dessert.”
He laughed. “I prefer sour candy to top off my oxymoron meal.”
“If you get thirsty, you might need a plastic straw.” Jaye handed one to him, enjoying their exchange. “What better way to sip your iced tea?”
“In a plastic glass, no less. Put these oxymorons together and we’ll have an interesting restaurant.” He gestured to a table near the window. “Sit with me so we can come up with a name.”
Surprised by the warm invitation, Jaye followed him to the table.
He pulled his shoulder-length black hair into a ponytail, securing the long waves with a rubber band. “I’m Roger, by the way.”
“I know. Thanks for sacrificing your Sunday to attend the meeting,” Jaye said. “I feel awful about asking people to give up part of their weekend, but this was the only time I could be in Syracuse.”
“Anyone who works for Davis Software knows there are times when it’s a seven-day-a-week job.” He scratched his chin and shrugged. “Listen, there’s something I need to ask. A couple of weeks ago, someone told me you were friends with a record producer in Los Angeles.”
“Yes.” Familiar caution stole over her lighthearted mood. “We went to college together.”
Roger pulled an MP-3 player out of his pocket and placed the gadget beside Jaye’s plate. “I play in a band and we’re looking for a producer. Five original songs are on this player. We play old school rock with a strong melody. In return for all the time I’m putting in this weekend, could I ask you to give this demo to your friend?”
So his friendliness had a purpose. Disappointed there was an angle, Jaye struggled to keep her smile in place. “I’ll give your demo to my friend’s partner. She’s in charge of searching for new talent. I can’t guarantee she’ll like your band, but it’s the best I can do.”
“Terrific. Thank you.” Roger fixed his gaze on something across the dining room. He flicked a business card on top of the MP-3 player and picked up his plate. “See you around.”
Just like that, she was by herself. Again. She reached for her cell phone, tempted to pretend some important emails needed attention. Instead, she texted a brief “I miss you” to Mitch.
A second later, he responded. “I miss you, too. Come back home.”
Happiness shimmered over her. His simple message was more important than all the emails in her inbox. She kept his text on the screen and ate quietly, no longer alone.
Late that afternoon, Jaye came to a stunned stop in her mother’s dressing room. Usually, Cecilia Davis looked elegant as an oil portrait when she sat in front of her makeup vanity, but the mirror reflected a different woman in that unguarded moment. Her delicate features were pinched with despondency. “Are you all right, Mom?”
Cecilia straightened her posture and jerked her gaze toward Jaye. “Yes, of course. I’m very well. Why do you ask?”
“Just checking.” Jaye studied the polite smile pasted on her mother’s face and hated how they pretended everything was fine. She thought of Mitch, who never let her pretend when he spotted heartache on her face. Every time he got her to talk about what mattered, she felt closer to him. What would happen if she delved deeper with her family? “I’m a little worried, Mom. When you didn’t know I was standing behind your chair, you looked so sad. Even a bit lonely.”
Cecilia squirted a dollop of lotion into her palms, rubbing the lemon-scented ointment into her hands. “I’m very well. And you?”
“I’m…fine.” Jaye had a feeling if she pressed for the truth, she’d get the same I’m very well—a polite euphemism for back off.
Her father strode into the spacious room, his dark business suit in stark contrast to the soothing creams and pinks in the decor. “Jayson, look at this prototype before you leave. The tablet’s software tracks the movement of the user’s eyes. Look at a letter on the alphabet bar and the program will automatically type the text. Touching the screen is no longer necessary. Absolutely brilliant.”
Jaye took the sleek device and squinted at the glare emanating from the screen. Davis Software was eliminating human touch, a revolutionary—and alarming—development. After holding the gratifying weight of a hand-blown glass in her hand, she knew the virtual world was a cheap substitute for the real thing. “The screen seems a little too bright, Dad.”
“Our tests proved this was the right brightness for our target market.” He reclaimed the device and stared at the screen on his way out of the room.
By now Jaye should have been used to not being in his target market, but she wasn’t. She wondered if her mother was tired of being invisible, too. Perhaps if they stormed into her father’s massive closet and threw his suits into the snow, they’d capture his attention. Despite the temptation to do something radical, Jaye knew
